THE WITCH AND THE TEA PARTY (A Rachael Penzra Mystery) (19 page)

That really was interesting. It was brother Quentin’s idea to work a theme around
Moondance’s readings. She talked a while more, but she seemed to have suddenly realized she was talking too much about her brother as well as herself. Had she really just recognized that she might be a suspect? It was difficult to tell if she’d talked so much because she was so emotionally involved she couldn’t stop, or because it honestly never occurred to her that she might be considered to have a motive.

With many thanks and promises o
f ‘keeping each other informed,’ my first interview was finished.

Sticks and stones ma
y break my bones—or they might tell me what I need to know about my future. Blindly dropping a hand full of sticks, or holding and releasing them much like you would a handful of pick-up sticks, provides a trained diviner with information about the passages and blockages in your path. A handful of stones can be cast in a similar manner. As with entrail readings, it takes an expert to read and interpret the message of sticks and stones. There are as many ways to divine your future as there are ideas in the human mind, but doing it properly takes years of training. More importantly, it has to be remembered that the future is adaptable to change. Sometimes it’s wiser to work on improving your outlook on life than worrying about what’s predicted. And you aren’t the only one whose future is involved in most readings. Things can change for others that completely alter your own life.

Chapter Nine

“You did really great,” David congratulated me when we were certain Karen had driven away.

“I didn’t do anything,” I grumbled. “She would have told her tale to a brick wall if she’d thought it had ears.”

“We learned a lot, one way or another,” he insisted. “And people do like to talk to you, Rachael. You’re honestly interested and they sense that.”

I don’t know where he got that idea, but I let it ride. As I age, I’ve learned it’s wiser to accept
accolades, earned or not. It keeps me feeling good about myself, and I find I’m quite talented at overlooking reality when I make the effort. “She certainly has a motive,” I shook my head in disbelief. “I’ll never understand human nature. Doesn’t she have a clue to what he’s really like?”

“He has a lot to offer,” David played Devil’s Advocate, but I saw the smug look on his face. “He’s good-looking in a way, and he reeks of money. Besides, he’s a smooth talker. I’ll bet there’s more than one
poor woman in love with him, or with his projection of himself.”

“I guess,” I sighed. “Money certainly is attractive, and it seems to clothe the people who have it with beauty. I’ve never fully understood that. It’s one thing for people who are really in need to find it so enticing, but most worshippers seem to be from middle incomes.”

“Power,” David said. “That’s the attraction. People don’t realize that if they really put their energy into it, they can gain all different types of power. When they have it, however, they don’t seem to need to advertise it.”

“You mean people like Elena?” I kept the allusion away from him personally.

“Yes. Don’t for a minute think she couldn’t become filthy rich if she wanted to.” He looked off into some outer, or maybe inner, space. “It’s like the Buddhist monks when they reach a certain level. They don’t need the outside feedback. They’re complete within themselves.”

That wasn’t the
way it was working with me and my psychic abilities. Of course, I had spent most of my life hiding them from others and from myself. So I’d never really learned how to have any control over them. I work at it sporadically nowadays, but never with any real concerted effort. I think I’m still a little afraid of them, but I’m not getting any younger. Maybe it’s time to stop procrastinating (hiding) and start seeking real control so I could learn from my excursions into other minds.

Aunt Myrtle came in through the back door. “You forgot to call me,” she scolded. “I saw the car leave, so I figured it was safe to come home.”

“I’m sorry. She only left a few minutes ago,” I excused myself, weakly. “We haven’t even discussed what she said at all. I’d better let the dogs in and give Patsy a ring. She’ll want to hear about it.”

David helped me disconnect myself from the recorder. No touchy-feely giggling with my aunt looking on. I left them to play the interview while I called Patsy. A quick trip to the potty and I was ready to see what they thought we’d actually learned.

“I could have told you that woman was crazy about him,” Aunt Myrtle declared. “It was disgusting the way she fawned on him. There’s no way his wife didn’t know what was going on.”

“Maybe nothing was,” I argued. “Just because she made a fool of herself doesn’t mean he did anything about it. Well, other than enjoy her worshiping him. I’m sure he was very careful about it in front of his wife, but he probably led her on just enough to keep her hopeful.”

“Humph,” she snorted. “He’s a man, isn’t he?”

David blushed and looked uncomfortable. I decided to rescue him. “Not every man is like that, and in a way you can’t blame him. We all like to be admired and from what I’ve gathered, his wife was a really difficult woman. I know I was furious
just listening when she talked to Moondance like she did. Imagine what it must have been like living with her day in and day out. Maybe she treated her husband differently. How did they seem as a couple to you, Aunt Myrtle?”

She frowned, concentrating.
Or pretending to. I had no doubt that she’d been over every detail about every one of the guests with Dora. That seemed so wrong to picture. It should have been the three of them together. David had the same idea. “Have you been able to contact Moondance yet?” he asked.

The frown disappeared and she put on her happy face. Never trust a happy face. “We don’t want to get
Jimbo upset. I’m sure she’ll let us know when he’s willing to let her talk to us again.”

I noticed that she hadn’t actually denied contacting her, just said they didn’t want to upset
Jimbo. How on earth were they managing it? I’m sure he had made sure all her electronic toys were closed down when he wasn’t right there watching. It sounds Dark Ages when I put it like that, but I couldn’t blame him. What a predicament he’d gotten himself into when he started the heavy-handed husband act. The pathetic thing was that it wasn’t like him at all. He’s generally the most tolerant of men. He’d have to be to survive marriage with a nutcase like his wife. And he loved her dearly. Poor man. He might as well accept defeat immediately rather than prolong the fact. The terrible trio would win in the end.

“I’m sure it’ll all work out,” I said, using my own
happy face voice. “So what did the… er…
two
of you figure out. Did you actually see him flirting?”

“Every word that man said was meant to be charming,” she stated. “
At first we thought he was wonderful, but the other day Dora heard that one of the deputies had told his wife that he’d called us silly old maids—which isn’t fair because Moondance is married. I doubt if he ever says an honest word in his life. But no, we couldn’t really pinpoint anything. There might have been some special glances exchanged, but we didn’t catch any of them. And it wasn’t just the Powell woman. That Rita Jasper woman was hanging on him, as well. But then she hung on the dead woman, too, and on that Captain or whatever he might be. We should look him up. He acts suspicious.”

“How?” David asked.

“He just does.
Too
friendly, if you ask me. And he talks about odd things.”

Patsy arrived, with Joe in tow. The three of us already there exchanged nervous looks. Had she told him what we were up to? Would he tattle to the sheriff? Probably. He would almost
certainly have to.

She took care of that problem by talking quickly as they came through the door. “Ran into Joe just pulling up to the house. He was hoping I’d be home by now. Couldn’t have timed it better if we’d synchronized our watches.”

He smiled, his gaze on her. Good. There’s nothing like love to thoroughly blind people. I’ve no doubt we all displayed guilty expressions on our faces, if he had been up to noticing.

“We were just talking about ice cream,” I
pressed one of the many buttons that run Joe—and me, for that matter. “I have some of that home-made hot fudge sauce that’s so good.”

Everybody agreed i
t was a good idea. We ate, discussed the case in general terms since Joe didn’t know we’d had access to the tapes. David left, giving me a chaste kiss on the way out. I yawned loudly, hinting to my aunt that our company was probably not desired. “Better get myself to bed,” I yawned again, hoping it would be contagious to her. Patsy and Joe weren’t looking at me, so I probably wouldn’t contaminate them. “Another long day tomorrow.”

“I suppose I should go, too,” she yawned.

We trotted upstairs to get our beauty sleep, leaving the two youngsters downstairs alone. It would be a few years before either of them needed to worry about wrinkles and sagging after losing a few hours of sleep.

We didn’t get much time to thoroughly discuss what we might have learned the next day, and really it wasn’t all that much. No confession of murder, not even an overt claim to having a motive.
Nicholas called around lunchtime to announce that John Hastings would be there at seven. I asked what kind of a captain he was. “Oh, he used to have a rowboat when we were kids and he always ordered us around. We called him Captain. Seems the title has followed him throughout life. He doesn’t correct people when they think it’s official. Just a joke, of course.”

I told him I’d be ready, but the sarcasm in his voice was unsettling. It didn’t sound as though he found his old buddy all that amusing. Maybe I was becoming overly critical of vocal inflections since listening to the tapes.

We’d all listened to the tape several times before everybody split again, Aunt Myrtle over to Dora’s, Patsy off with Joe somewhere, and David back on the stairs. The captain (I was thinking about the title as lower case since listening to Nicholas deride it) showed up fifteen minutes late, not very punctual for an officer, I thought snidely. He was cheery enough when he finally did arrive, but made no reference, much less apology, for his tardiness.

He did look a little like George Clooney, if y
ou didn’t take the lack of a gleam of humor into consideration. He started out nicely enough, no doubt realizing that everything he said or did would be repeated back to his friend. “Ah, a woman who knows how to cook,” he said, happily accepting the coffee and brownies said woman offered. “What a glorious thing, a homemaker.”

“This glorious thing also runs
her own business,” I reminded him. “Baking is just a hobby with me, kind of like golf or fishing for you males. And of course, women choose golf and fishing for hobbies the same way men choose cooking.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” he managed. “Okay, a smart woman who can cook. A real helpmeet for a man.”

We could have played that game all evening, and I was already bored with it. “I guess we all have our places in life,” I chuckled, quite without humor, which I hoped didn’t show. “Did Nicholas explain to you what you’re here for?”

“To save his hide, although he didn’t put it quite like that. I just don’t get what
you
can do other than make it look as though he’s trying everything he can to find the killer.”

“His wife told him that I’ve been involved in some cases lately, strictly as an onlooker, but there when the case
s were solved. Like you, I’m not very impressed with the idea of amateur sleuths solving crimes, but I also have occasional flashes of psychic insights.” I decided to let him know that there was a tiny chance that I could actually find something out.

He looked nervous for a minute, before recovering his usual insouciance. “So you can meet a murderer and something in your brain says Aha!
here’s a murderer?”

“Wouldn’t that be convenient,” I laughed. “Unless I said it out loud and I was alone with him.
Then it might not be so smart.”

“You say ‘him’. Is that just sexist or do you have some clue? I hear your niece is in pretty tight with the sheriff’s deputy.”

“Alas, just a sexist remark,” I admitted. “And of course poison is supposedly a woman’s weapon. But like most things, it’s become rather universally used. I imagine the sudden use of forensic knowledge has made regular weapons rather easily traced.”

“Survival is the name of the game,” he agreed. “If poison is the best way to kill someone, the safest, you can bet men will use it. It’s what we’re good at, taking care of ourselves, however we need to.”

Again the conversation was going nowhere fast. “What I really need from you is how you perceive the other suspects. Being a survivalist, you should be used to reading people’s body language for possible threats, even without thinking about it.”

He liked that idea. His face became serious as he mentally ran the others past his inner vision. “I don’t think I noticed anything, but it was rather an odd evening from start to finish. I don’t know why Frances picked such a combination of people. Most of us had nothing in common with each other. Of course I know Rita rather well. I escort her around a lot when she needs a man along. Usually I get a good meal out of it, so I don’t mind.”